


Una Mala Idea Muy Buena.

by Resistance



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M, Texas Rangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resistance/pseuds/Resistance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone needs someone sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Una Mala Idea Muy Buena.

**Author's Note:**

> This is set on October 28, 2011. The Texas Rangers, after just losing the World Series again, flew straight home.

_Around 1am. Dallas, Texas._  
  
I knew it was my fault. Everyone was thinking that, too, probably, but I knew there was more I could have done in Game 6. I let up too much! We could have held a lead if I hadn't let up so much. There was more I could have done before that too. I wanted to get into Game 7. I wanted to do more because more was expected of me. I didn't want to face how disappointed my teammates would be Sunday cleaning out our lockers. I didn't want to see... any of them.   
  
So I sat in my apartment and let ESPN torture me. They're going over and over Game 7. How unexpected that Cardinals run was. We were supposed to win. Everyone knew that. Hell, we were supposed to be playing the Phillies. At least getting beat by them wouldn't be so embarrassing. This team had been 10 games back! It's like getting beat by the Giants all over again. Except worse.  
  
I looked at my phone. Maybe I should cancel the thing with the Stars tomorrow. Maybe I should have stayed in St Louis so I could have an excuse not to have to stand in front of all those people who were either mad at me or pittying me. I had promised the Stars people, win or lose, I'd be there. I think Mike was going too, but maybe he could come up with a reason not to. I thought about calling him and asking if he was going to get out of it. But he had kids and it was late.  
  
Wrigley was sleeping in his bed and I thought about waking him up just so he'd keep me comapny, but that wasn't fair of me. I thought calling someone else. A lot of the guys were probably torturing themselves with ESPN too. But anyone I would have called had someone that they were spending this despressing time with. Cheer up sex wasn't better than a World Series, but it was something more than watching ESPN. I didn't pick my phone up.  
  
The knock on my door scared the shit out of me. It was late, really late. Way past the time that anyone was going to show up on my doorstep. I calmed myself down before I stood up. Kyle wasn't in Texas and I couldn't figure out what Ranger was going to just show up. I was fairly confident that even if a reporter knew where I lived, they'd wait for the morning. And hecklers never knocked. I opened my door.  
  
"Are you busy, Derek?" The way he trilled the R in my name had always given my shivers and would always. It also clenched my stomach and made me want to slam the door in his face. But I was frozen in place, just staring at him. The only thought my idiot brain let filter through was that I was surprised he remembered where I lived.   
  
I shook my head against my will and he walked past me and inside my living room. I know it's stupid to say but I could smell him as he walked by and it made me feel lightheaded. Like a drug. A drug I swore off after last time. After many last times that I wasn't going to repeat. And yet he was making himself comfortable on my couch. I was still standing at the door when I finally remembered how to speak, "Neffi, I don't--"  
  
He shook his head, "You have something to drink?" God, his accent killed me. Or healed me. Or both. I wanted to hear more and I wanted to kick him out. He was a bad idea. He had always been a bad idea. But he knew how he effected me. He knew how I loved the sound of his voice. I had been stupid enough to tell him back when I thought this could ever be something, back when I didn't know how deep the Dominican Closet went.   
  
"No, I'm not--" TO my credit, I did try to refuse him. I'd have to remember to tell CJ that tomorrow when I tell him this story. Before he reminds me how I swore I was done with him and I wouldn't let his voice pull me back. After I tell him about how his damn voice pulled me back.  
  
Neftali stood up and went into my kitchen like he owned the place. I remember giving him that freedom last year, but this year had been different. Mostly different. I had tried to make it different. I didn't keep things he liked here on purpose. He was going to find my liquors that he called 'femenina', girly. I liked mixed drinks and he liked to make fun of me for that. He'd find American beer in my fridge too. He wouldn't find anything he'd cook with in my cabinates either. CJ made me throw it all away. It had felt good.   
  
He reappeared in the archway between the living room and kitchen with a look between hurt and annoyed, "¿Dónde está mi ron?" Where is my rum? His rum. In my kitchen.  
  
I felt the first smile on my lips since Game 5. I was going to be able to do this. I was strong enough. "It's gone. I don't drink that." I realised too late that I probably should have pretended I didn't understand his Spanish, just for extra effect, but I'd studied it too hard to have to pause to translate such a simple sentence.  
  
He scoffed as if that was a stupid reason not to have something in my own kitchen. "Pero era mío," he protested. He sounded disappointed and I suddenly wanted to throw up. It was his and I had tossed it out. Why didn't that sound like it was a good idea anymore?  
  
"Lo siento." English, damnit. I knew my Spanish was horrible, so I used to try to give him the few words I did know. I wasn't going to do that anymore. I briefly wondered if CJ was asleep already or if he'd managed to get Josh tonight. I thought about grabbing my phone and locking myself in my bathroom before I realised how incredibly stupid that was. It was my condo, damnit! "Neffi, this isn't a good idea."   
  
He sighed and I could tell by the look on his face, he wasn't thinking the same thing I was. He was thinking about how what he had come here for, what he wanted, was called 'disgusting' by his people at home. He was thinking about how he had to hide this and how he wasn't sure I'd keep his secret. He wasn't thinking about how I didn't want to get shoved in his culture's closet. He wasn't thinking about how much it hurt me to say so. "Yo sé. Pero---"   
  
"Give me English, damnit!" I heard myself yell before my brain registered I was angry. I had worked on my Spanish when he barely had any English so it would be easier for him. Now he had some English, a good amount of English, and he was going to make things easier for me instead. Even if I knew full well he hadn't learned for me like I learned for him.  
  
FOr a split second it looked like he actually felt bad, like maybe he remembered how I tried to learn Spanish for him. And my stomach clenched. But he hid the look away and reminded me how easily he could hide anything away that he wanted to. "Lo siento. Uh. Sorry." God, did he have to pick a word he could trill like that?! Of course he did. "I want... to not be solo. You too?"  
  
Suddenly grabbing my phone and locking myself in my bathroom didn't seem like such a stupid idea. It seemed like a very smart way to get myself out of this hole I found myself in. It would have saved me from looking at Neftali and seeing all over his face that he blamed himself for us losing more than anyone else on the whole team. Because he had caused Game 7 to happen even more than Mark had. And there was nothing I could say that would make that less true.  
  
I walked past him and into my kitchen. I could feel his eyes following me the whole time. I opened the cabinate above the fridge, glad that I didn't have to get a chair and look stupid. I was determined to make this as smooth as possible. It would be horrible to be stupid and look stupid at the same time. I wouldn't mention this part to CJ when I told him this story. I handed Neftali a half-empty bottle of imported rum.   
  
I could feel his smile even without looking at his face. "You could not go rid of me all the way?" There wasn't as much smuggness in his voice as there would have been any other time. I hoped it wasn't my imagination or wishful thinking that he sounded almost hopeful when he asked. If I couldn't get rid of him, maybe Texas couldn't either. No matter how badly he treated either of us.  
  
I shook my head, "Not completely." Despite what CJ had told me and Kyle had told me and Ian had told me, I just couldn't. On the nights that I missed him so much it hurt, I'd drink myself to sleep with his rum. It didn't take much, I'm a cheap date. There weren't a lot of those nights, but enough that it wasn't a full bottle anymore. They usually happened after someone tried to set me up on a date. They weren't him.   
  
He put the bottle down and stepped closer to me. I felt a shiver go through my body and I hoped he couldn't tell. I looked anywhere but his eyes, knowing that's where he wanted me to look. He stepped closer and I knew I'd have to look at him or I'd pass out or throw up. Neither of those were nearly as smooth as I wanted to be, but I knew what was going to happen if I looked at him. I knew it as well as he did. He touched my arm and there was nothing I could do to keep my eyes off his.   
  
The look I was met with shocked me. Neftali was always so confident, some would say cocky. Many would say cocky. But in that moment, he wasn't anywhere near that. He was hurting and he was willing to show me how much he was hurting. He wasn't here for sex. Not that I doubted he wanted that, but he'd come to me for comfort, for me to tell him he hadn't completely let us down. I couldn't turn him away now.   
  
I leaned in to press my lips to his because I couldn't think of any words that could possibly comfort him. The had he'd had on my shoulder slid up to the back of my neck and he pushed the kiss deeper. I opened myself to him completely. Even if I'd sworn I'd never do that again, the soft sigh he gave made it completely worthwhile. He needed to know how much I felt for him even after Game 6. Even after everything.   
  
The kiss lasted either a couple weeks or a couple seconds, I couldn't tell. My head was swimming, my pulse was racing and I couldn't breathe. He broke the kiss and I chased his lips for just a second before I remembered myself. I opened my eyes, looking for something more than just the usual lust I saw after he kissed me. For once, he didn't disappoint me. I think he might have been crying, but he didn't give me a chance to look closer before he kissed me again.  
  
This time when he broke the kiss, I didn't open my eyes. If he needed to cry, I was going to let him and he didn't have to know I knew. His lips brushed mine again. I think he knew. "Por favor.... ¿puedo tenerte?" It was a question for the first time in as long as I'd known him. He'd told me I was his, he'd told me he was going to take me, he'd never asked if he could have me. He'd never said please. My heart hurt to hear it.  
  
My breath caught in my throat and I felt him still, waiting for my answer. Not only was it a question, but he was giving me time to answer as if he would take my answer as fact. AS if he'd do what I wanted. I knew I should say no. I knew for the first time that if I did say no, he'd stop, he'd do what I told him. I knew this wasn't real, it was pain from the end of the season speaking. But he'd never asked me before, and I couldn't say no. "Sí. Sí, siempre." Always.  
  
He wrapped an arm around me, and kissed me again. Kissed me like I'd always dreamed he he'd kiss me. Not like I was a fling, not like I was something to do when he needed some, but like he loved me. I could let myself believe it in that kiss. I could let myself think that he could love me like Michael and Ian, like CJ and Josh, like we saw in our clubhouse, like I'd always wanted. He was kissing me like that and I could believe him. Even if I knew it wasn't real, I could believe it.   
  
"Please stay." I whispered, afraid it might break the spell he had created. It was always my request of him. Spend the night, stay with me. He always refused. But tonight I could believe he would stay with me. The way he was kissing me let me believe he would stay this time. He didn't reply, but I didn't expect him to. He kissed me again and I forgot I'd spoken.  
  
He pulled me back towards my bedroom, but kept kissing me like that. I had no idea what was going on, which way was up, I just wanted more of his kisses, more of him. My shirt was on the floor before I knew he'd let go of me. His hands were all over me, making me shiver again and again. I was afraid to open my eyes even after he moved his kisses to my shoulder and collarbone. He was being so gentle, I was afraid I'd look and it wouldn't be him.   
  
"Derek..." He purred my name beside my ear and my legs turned to jelly. I held tight to him, partially because I couldn't keep on my feet and partially because I needed to be sure he wasn't a very vivid dream I was having. In truth, I'd had this dream before. "Te necesito." My breath caught again, he'd never said he needed me. I'd said it too many times.  
  
He moved me to my bed and managed to strip me of my pants and lay me down at the same time. He'd done it before, but it'd never been so slow that I could actually realise it was happening. I always said that I wanted sex to be a little rough, passionate, because that's what he'd always given me. But this was making every hair on my body stand on end. I wasn't thinking about wanting him to take me, like I always had. I wanted to be with him. I wanted him to... make love to me. Something I wouldn't have dared even think about around him before this.   
  
By the time he joined me on the bed, he'd shed all of his clothes. Feeling his body against mine sent my mind reeling, I wasn't on the planet anymore, I was floating somewhere in space. I wrapped my leg around him, more than eager to give myself over to him, to feel more of this, to feel anything he wanted to show me. All thoughts of turning him down where gone. In that moment, he was everything and I knew for sure he would give it all to me. I knew for sure he would love me.  
  
 _The next morning...._  
  
I hadn't set my alarm. For some reason, it hadn't been on my mind the night before. I felt the sun coming from my window, but I didn't open my eyes. Memories of the night before came flooding back. I think I moaned. He had been so good, everything had been so perfect. We had made love for the first time and it was amazing. Even after we'd finished, he laid in bed with me. He held me, or maybe I held him, all night long. I fell asleep wrapped up with him. I'd never felt that good before in my life. I knew if I opened my eyes, it would be over.   
  
I heard Wrigley barking from the other side of my bedroom door. He wanted to eat, he wanted to go out, he needed me. I prayed when I opened my eyes, I wouldn't be alone in bed, but I knew that was studpid. I was asking for too much. He gave me more than he'd ever given me, that had to be enough for now. I opened my eyes.   
  
 _Te veré el domingo. --Neffi_  
  
He'd left me a note. He'd never done that before. He always left after we had sex, but I had always been awake when he did. He never spent the night before. He'd never fallen asleep with me before. I read the note a dozen times. It was just one sentence and yet I read it over and over. I'll see you Sunday. And every time I got to how he'd signed it, I smiled. I called him that, he never called himself that. It was American, he said. No one in the Dominican would have called him that. Just some kid from Ohio.   
  
I let Wrigley into my bedroom before I got dressed. He bounded up onto the bed and paused, sniffing at the pillow Neftali had been sleeping on. He growled and knocked the pillow off the bed before curling up in that spot. I was surprised to hear myself laugh. The day after we lost the World Series, I was laughing. I felt great. Neftali had left like always, but it didn't make me feel as worthless as it had before. It didn't make me feel bad at all.   
  
I put the note in my pocket before I hooked Wrigley's leash to his collar. I grabbed my phone, locking the door behind us. It was too early to call anyone, but I needed to talk. I need to explain to someone how good I was feeling before something dawned on me to remind me that I shouldn't be feeling good at all. I flipped through my contacts, trying to figure out who I should bother with this, who would actually pick up the phone and let me talk.   
  
I passed on Taylor and Mike right away, catchers were way too logical for this kind of thing. I'd feel bad waking Ian up, because I know that he and Michael we probably up late last night. I flipped past a bunch of teammate for just that reason. I knew CJ was awake, he always did that morning thing. And he probably wasn't so lucky to get to keep his boyfriend overnight either. Shit. Not either. He was the only one of the two of us that had a boyfriend. He was going to lecture me, but I reaslised after that thought snuck into my head that I needed it badly. I took a deep breath and dialed his number.


End file.
